


The Art of Courier-ing

by oloros



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: A little journey with our favourite nerd and our favourite robotic nerd, Fluff, Gen, Humour, Learning to understand AI sentience, Tumblr request, short fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29355375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oloros/pseuds/oloros
Summary: He was out in the Mojave, exposed like a mole rat to the harsh, orange light. His only saving grace? A robot. A really big robot.
Relationships: Arcade Gannon & Yes Man, Female Courier & Yes Man
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

Why did he agree to it?

He didn’t know. Maybe it was because he owed her a favour – (and _god_ , Arcade already had enough favours to owe) – or the way she looked at him with the same expectancy his mother would, right before she slapped him across the face for denying a chore. However it happened, he was out in the Mojave, exposed like a mole rat to the harsh, orange light. His only saving grace? A robot. A really big robot.  
  
How things have changed.

She had a thing for it – _him._ Large square body with a small smiling face, always bouncing on his wheel and swaying his thick, clawed hands in the air like a children’s depiction of a deathclaw. He even _beeped_ like a generic robot. Small, easy to miss, but Arcade couldn’t ignore it like he could white noise. It was a reminder of the nature of his so-called bodyguard.

Yes Man didn’t argue at least. Rathaus had said he couldn’t. Whichever cruel scientist had concocted the beast had decided it wouldn’t be capable of free will. Like every other machine he was to follow orders at the drop of the hat, only he couldn’t be bitter about it. That was the most irritating thing about Yes Man: his smile.

The big, goofy smile and that loud singsong voice.

Not that he’d heard much of it himself. It turned out Yes Man was silent unless spoken to, rolling along behind him like a mobile tank. That’s what he was, wasn’t it? What all securitrons were: an arsenal of weapons given a means of movement. So why did Rathaus care for this one so much? Enough to address him as _him_ , enough to speak to him as a _person_.

Craning his head to watch, he supposed there was a novelty to the facade of innocence. _That_ was something other securitrons lacked.

They were on their way to Novac. Halfway there, in fact, by the look of the dry lake in the distance. Yes Man had already weeded off any stragglers from the ant colonies that roamed it. There was just _one_ other problem, much more imposing than an ant could hope to be.

“Radscorpions,” Arcade bit, plucking his laser pistol from his hip and landing its sights on the big, blue body. His shot was interrupted a second before he could pull the trigger by a loud whistle past his ear. A missile thumped heavily onto the ground and imploded, shattering the top layer of the radscorpion and drumming a shockwave across the ground. Arcade fell back, landing against metal and rubber. Yes Man’s shoulders had cracked in two to reveal a nasty stash of small missiles.

“Are you _insane?_ ” He pushed himself away from Yes Man, taking a pot shot at the radscorpion. Though heavily injured it continued to pursue, frenzied by the attack. “You do _not_ use missiles that close to a person!”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” The covers landed heavily back over his shoulders. Yes Man’s left claws retracted and he finished the radscorpion off with some well-placed lasers. “I thought it would be best to _weaken_ it, considering how strong radscorpions are supposed to be. But why would we want to do it the easy way? That takes away all the **fun**!”

“I don’t need your attitude,” Arcade said. Rathaus had _not_ been kidding about his round-a-bout way of arguing. But there was little time to dwell on it; the radscorpion’s friends had already caught wind of the drama, pincers at the ready. “Just don’t use them. Ever. Tuck them away unless you see a… I don’t know, a deathclaw or something!”

“Got it,” Yes Man affirmed, already spinning around to face the onslaught.

There were a total of five, four of which were small in size compared to the average radscorpion. The last one rivalled Yes Man in size and tripled his aggression, sneaking up behind Arcade while he whittled down its remaining friend. The tail swung, thick as a car tire, and he was _sure_ he was seeing his life flash before his eyes when –  
  
 _BANG!  
_  
It happened in an instant. Shards of plastic and metal zipped through the air like bullets, one grazing his cheek enough to draw blood. He fell back into the sand, dazed, hearing lasers rattle off until the shrill shriek of a dying radscorpion brought it all to a close.

 _Crack.  
Bzzzt.  
_Arcade eased himself up. “Ugh, my head. Are you –“

No, he wasn’t. Yes Man turned to him with half a chest missing; namely, the speaker. It was almost severed clean, panel hanging by its corner. Wires of red, green and blue poked out to explore their newfound freedom, sparking at the ends. He crackled and whined like a robotic ghoul. Was he trying to speak? He was still moving his hands.

Arcade held up his palm to stop him. He placed his free hand against his cheek to stem the blood.  
“Break time,” he muttered.


	2. Chapter 2

Arcade _really_ didn’t like robots. No more than the average person would.

They worked in mysterious ways; thought like mysterious people. Where you could look a man in the eye and peek through his layers, a robot had none but a metal shell to display its intentions. Yes Man fell somewhere in between those two categories. His voice was always in high spirits, more human than any securitron he’d met before, and there small frays in his speech that would hint towards _emotions_ : something Arcade had never imagined a robot to possess, much less one of House’s creations. Now that his speech was impaired….

_Maybe Rathaus is onto something._

As the fire crackled in front of him, stoked up with the laser end of Yes Man’s right hand, a deep frown settled. He was sat upon a wooden log, tapping the nose of an old rifle against the floor.  
  
They had retreated to a cave shortly after the radscorpion attack. Arcade certainly didn’t want to push his luck a second time and he doubted Yes Man was eager for a round two. The cave was dusty and the floors were more gravel and dirt than stone. There was a raided survivor camp by the end, which curved out on either side, and it was complete with a set of log seats and a tent. The supplies weren’t much, only a pair of old rifles with missing magazines and a couple of Sugar Bombs. There were only _two_ corpses in the tent itself – a lucky find, for sure.

His eyes darted to Yes Man. He seemed to be inspecting one of them. _Morbid._

“Hey,” Arcade called. He didn’t need to speak loud; even a whisper would bounce off the walls. “You have a, uh, self repair system, right? How’s that holding up?”

Seeing the smiling screen turn to him without a follow-up bootlick was eerier than he’d expected. Static crackled from the damaged speaker on Yes Man’s chest. His hands moved with sound, another tell-tale sign of him trying to communicate.  
“Here’s to hoping it’s not permanent,” Arcade sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m a medicine man. For _people._ And that’s only on the forms.”

Yes Man bounced on his wheel, shaking up some loose dirt. Arcade covered his face with his forearm, holding his breath until it settled. If Yes Man regretted it, or had even _noticed_ , was unknown to him. He only stared forwards with that silly screen. How the happiest of faces could appear so perfectly vacant…

With nothing else to do, he ought to bring some personality to Yes Man’s appearance. Maybe Rathaus could update it one day. He used the thin end of the dysfunctional rifle to carve through the gathered dirt. He started with the smile, easy enough. It was two curves and a long line, then two small ticks at each end. Beneath followed the mouth, with a small quirked tongue and a large gap for the teeth. Then the eyes… He lingered on Yes Man’s screen for a good minute.

_Ah, that’s it!_

His pupils lacked direction! They were staring into the air, looking through whatever lay in front of them. Arcade lined out his eyes then placed the pupils upwards, making the face to appear as if it were looking up. With a few final touch-ups it was complete, and he gave an approving nod to solidify the thought.

Then, a large shadow covered his masterpiece.

Yes Man had rolled over, whirring quietly. Arcade guessed he was looking at the drawing – did he recognise his own face? Had he ever _seen it?_

“Uh, hi.” Arcade scooted to the farther end of the log. “Sorry. I know it’s weird.”

Yes Man moved to reach out a hand, then stopped. He turned to face Arcade.

Arcade blinked. Looking between the drawing and the securitron, realisation struck him. “Oh. It’s fine – you can touch it.”

Out came another slough of static before Yes Man moved the rounder of his two hands, dragging a long rubber claw through the dirt. He was gentle, or at least gentler than the securitrons on the Strip. His addition was simple: eyebrows.

Arcade studied him for a moment. _So you do know your own face_.

Then, to his surprise, Yes Man moved aside and began to draw something of his own. A round, circular head, jagged edges on the tops and two squares connected by a thin line across the face. It wasn’t the most graceful of artworks, but he could easily tell who it was.

“That’s what I look like to you?” Arcade raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I do need to get a haircut.”

Yes Man clinked two claws together.

He grimaced. “I don’t even want to know how you’d cut hair.”

There was something so innocent about him. Here was a robot designed for _security;_ armed to the top with lasers, lead and missiles to launch. He had no obligation to be curious about anything a human would do… But he was so clearly _imitating._ What use would a securitron have to learn to draw? To joke? Like the children around the Mormon Fort, he was taking what he saw and practicing it with his own tools.

Maybe Yes Man had more going for him than a voice after all.

“I think we should take a detour, get you checked out.” Arcade said. “If you’re not going to be able to talk, I’d rather have someone boot you up as a radio than a silent artillery barrage.”

Yes Man bobbed on his wheel again, although more modestly. The dust only kicked up to his hip.

Arcade snorted. “Glad you agree.”

**Author's Note:**

> Rathaus is my Courier Six.  
> You can find more of her and more of my Fallout content in general on Tumblr: @ghoulja


End file.
